Kick It In The Sticks
by starxcrossedxwolf
Summary: John's a southern boy working on his family's farm, Sherlock just moved in next door because his parents thought the city was a bad influence. With John as his guide, Sherlock survives school, bonfires, and much, much more.
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock sighed for what probably was the hundredth time that day. He gazed out the window of his parent's Yukon, wishing he was anywhere but packed in this SUV with his infuriating brother and the people insisting that they move to a small country town in the middle of fucking no where. He cranked his music a little louder, letting the base thrum through his head in a soothing way.

Hours later, they pulled into the driveway of a simple but beautiful home in between two cornfields, which Sherlock hated on sight. Mycroft muttered about how it was a nice house just to appease their parents, but Sherlock felt no such need. He was out of the car as soon as it stopped, observing the area around him, from the road and the forest opposite to the farmhouse he could see in the distance to the left.

Once he had gathered the information he could from the surroundings, he faced the house, his family getting out of the vehicle behind him. His mother nodded in approval at the building and went to unlock the front door while his father and brother began unpacking the car. Soon the moving truck would be pulling up the driveway and the house would be filled by mediocre minds. Deciding he would hide in his new room for as long as he could, Sherlock followed his mother into the house.

He chose his room before Mycroft even got up the stairs. His new territory faced east; toward the farmhouse he had seen peaking over the cornrows. He leaned on the window, letting his breath fog the glass and wishing he were anywhere but here.

JWXSH

John was on the tractor, country music blasting through his headphones as he worked. The sun beat down on his back and he used his sleeve to mop up the sweat gathering on his forehead, pondering going down to the swimming hole that evening just to cool off. Some of his school friends might be willing to come. Humming along with the next song that came on, John looked up just in time to see a large moving truck thunder by, heading towards the property to their right.

Someone must have bought it, because he could see the top of an SUV from where he was perched, and reminded himself to tell his mom when he finished up. She would want to go over with cookies or whatnot and invite them over for dinner, he was sure. John rolled his eyes fondly at the thought, knowing he would have to go along and that Cooper would follow him as he always did, mostly lured by the smell of cookies. The dog had an obsession with baked goods for some reason.

John finished up his work swiftly and headed back to the house, stripping his shirt off as he walked through the front door while Harry bitched about indecency. John stuck his tongue out at her and continued through to the back of the house where the kitchen was, and where his mother was beginning to cook dinner.

"Hey Ma. Think some new neighbors moved in next door." John said as he plopped down in one of the chairs, plucking an apple from the bowl and beginning to munch on it. His mother glanced at him quickly before returning to stirring a gigantic pot.

"Is that right? Well you know what that means – you're helping me bake tonight." John sighed deeply at his mother's words, but knew that arguing would be pointless. What his mother wanted, she got.

"Alright. We inviting them to dinner tomorrow night, then?" John asked, and his mother nodded, her head in a cookbook. He smiled at the familiar sight and patted her shoulder before leaving the room to go take a shower.

JWXSH

John woke the next morning with Cooper sprawled across his feet, snoring softly. His father always told him not to let the dog on the bed, but John couldn't make his beloved canine lay on the cold floor, and so up onto the quilt he came. They both seemed to sleep better because of it.

It was Saturday, which meant it was John's turn to cook breakfast, so he slid out from under his dog and headed to the bathroom in his pajama pants, rubbing one eye and hearing the clicking of Cooper's nails behind him. John went through his morning ritual before finally getting downstairs in wranglers and a white t-shirt, heading straight for the kitchen with Cooper at his heels.

His father was already at the table reading the newspaper when he arrived, and Cooper walked over immediately to place his head in the man's lap. Not looking away from his paper, the older man patted the dog's head lightly as John set to work getting out the eggs and bread. Breakfast was nearly done when Harry and their mother entered the room, and Harry helped him put everything on plates and place them on the table.

"Honey, John told me we have some new neighbors. I'm going to invite them to dinner tonight, so after you get out of the fields you best be cleaning up fast. I want to make a good impression." John's mother told her husband, who rolled his eyes but nodded as he shoveled eggs into his mouth. Harry chuckled and John couldn't help but join in, knowing that their father was underneath his wife's thumb just like their children. She turned sharp eyes on them next and the laughter was swallowed up with bits of toast.

"Harry, you'll be helping me cook dinner tonight. And John, you're coming with me to welcome them to the neighborhood. No complaining." She ordered, and they both nodded meekly.

After breakfast Harry took care of the dishes while John stuffed his feet into some boots, Cooper being generally in the way. His mother came strolling in just as John wrestled his left foot into the boot, shaking her head and grabbing a pie off the top of the fridge. John leapt up to follow her out of the kitchen and through the house, Cooper trailing behind as John knew he would.

The three of them made it out of the house, down the long driveway and onto the road swiftly, and John wondered what these new people would be like. Would they have just moved from another town like this one, and would be as welcoming as any family here? Or maybe they were from the city and would be cold and strange. Thoughts raged around his head and the next thing he knew his mother was ringing the doorbell and movement was heard from inside.

It took a moment, but then the door opened to show a tall, beautiful woman with black hair pulled back into a bun. She looked strict, and John had to keep himself from shrinking back. His mother, however, felt no such fear, and introduced herself cheerfully, offering the pie. The woman in question was Mrs. Holmes, and John grinned at her warmly when he was introduced. A small smile made it's way onto Mrs. Holmes face, and she ushered them inside, calling up the stairs for her sons.

JWXSH

Sherlock was setting up a new experiment when he heard the doorbell ring and his mother open the door. Must be some of their neighbors coming to say hello. Dull.

He continued to tinker with various items, ignoring the voices that wafted up from the floor below. That was, until his mother's voice floated up to summon them. He could here Mycroft's door open and close and hoped beyond hope that they would leave him alone.

Of course not. A knock came at his door moments before Mycroft simply walked in and grabbed his arm, dragging him away from his discoveries and down the stairs. Sherlock struggled, yelling about how his acids were going to do damage to his equipment, but Mycroft was used to that since he said it every time. He was pulled all the way from the stairs into the parlor, where his mother was setting out lemonade for a kind looking woman and what was clearly her son.

Mycroft let go of Sherlock and he instantly began smoothing out the wrinkles, nearly growling at his older brother and refusing to move from the entrance of the room. His mother looked up as Mycroft sat beside her and grinned (evilly, Sherlock noted) at her youngest son.

"Sherlock, I'm so glad you could take a moment from your experiments to join us. This is Mrs. Watson and her son, John. He's in the same grade as you." She said sweetly, but there was a twinkle in her eye Sherlock did not trust at all. He nodded shortly to John, who smiled blindingly in return. Sherlock wasn't used to that from people, but he knew it would vanish shortly after he opened his mouth, which he was about to do.

"Works on the farm after school and on weekends in between school work and football, you've had that dog since you where around 10-12 and trained him yourself – you let him sleep on the bed, though you're not allowed to. Mrs. Watson has cut your hair ever since you were young, and you have an older brother." Sherlock deduced quickly, ignoring his mother who said his name in warning. At least he was leaving Mrs. Watson alone.

John gaped at him, and he waited patiently for the scowling to begin. Mrs. Watson seemed startled, and Mycroft was rubbing his face in frustration. Right as his mother went to apologize, though, John began to speak.

"That was amazing! How did you know all that about me and Cooper? Can you do that to anyone?" John said eagerly, and it was Sherlock's turn to be shocked, though he got his composure back quickly.

"You have a clear farmers tan, you have faded grass stains on your shirt – I'm thinking they come from sports, not work – that dog looks to be between 4 and 6, but he looks to you for direction, so you must have trained him. Usually training is done when they're younger; he was probably bought as a gift. You also have fur on your shirt but no paw prints, which means the fur didn't get there by him jumping on you, it was transferred from your sheets to your shirt when you were getting dressed. Mrs. Watson looks like a very neat woman, so you're not allowed to let him on the furniture but you let him on the bed anyway. Your hair looks good but not the same as if a barber did it; therefore someone – a family member – has practice and surely took care of your haircuts for a long time. Finally, the phone in your lap looks a bit banged up, and is an older model, therefore a hand-me-down from an older sibling and usually girls take better care of their possessions." Sherlock said all of this in what seemed like one breath. "And yes, I can do that to anyone."

A wide grin broke out on John's face, and he patted the head of his dog, who wagged his tail happily.

"You got everything right except one thing: I have an older sister. She's just a tomboy that gets banged up a lot." John told Sherlock, chuckling at the thought. Sherlock frowned but nodded, but soon he had a little smile of his own. John's cheerfulness was infectious. After another moment Sherlock decided that this may be worth his while, and sat down in one of the chairs to listen.


	2. Chapter 2

John listened to his mother and Mrs. Holmes chatter together, but his mind was going a million miles a minute. Sherlock, he thought, was a truly stunning individual. Oh his body was gorgeous, no doubt about that, but his mind was so much more. John wondered what experiments he had been doing before his brother had forced him down here.

He could feel Sherlock's eyes on him, and it felt like the boy was looking right through him. He wondered what else he could tell about John by looking at him. Or looking at Cooper. Oh god, what could he find out from looking in his room? John decided then that Sherlock wouldn't be entering his bedroom for a long while. Finally the women paused a moment while Mrs. Holmes went to the kitchen to get snacks, and Sherlock spoke again.

"What breed of dog is that? I've never seen it before." He asked curiously, leaning forward in his chair a bit. Mycroft looked stunned, as if Sherlock asking questions was a rare thing. Then again maybe it was.

"Cooper's a redbone coonhound. One town over a man breeds them, and I got him when I was 12. Follows me everywhere." John answered as Cooper's tail thumped against the wood floor. John couldn't help but grin. "Go on, Coop, go say hi."

Sherlock looked almost alarmed as Cooper bounded over and put his head in his lap. He hesitated before patting the canine on the head awkwardly, as if he had never been around a dog before. Well John was going to have to fix that.

"What experiments where you doing? If you show me I promise not to touch anything." John asked, and Sherlock lit up like a Christmas tree. He bounced up, accidentally knocking Cooper away, who just stood and wagged his tail anyway. Mrs. Holmes walked in the room just in time for Sherlock to tell her he was showing John his experiments before Sherlock grabbed his hand and hauled him towards the stairs.

John went willingly, but with Sherlock's longer legs he ended up stumbling a few times and nearly falling down the stairs. Sherlock never let him though, and dragged him into a room on the left side of the house. He opened the door to show what John assumed was a bedroom – it had a bed in it – but looked more like a lab. There was a long table stretching one side of the room, littered with a microscope, tubes of liquid in various colors, and tons of little glass slides among other items.

"This is awesome! You do all this yourself?" John asked, wide-eyed. Sherlock snorted as if the answer were obvious, but nodded anyway. He had a rather smug look on his face, but John thought he had a right to be.

"What are you doing with all this?" John asked, stepping closer to get a better look. There was several flasks in the middle of the table that were filled with liquid and something that looked like little chunks of meat. Sherlock must have seen him eyeing it.

"Right now I'm determining how long flesh takes to dissolve in certain acids." He said simply. Apparently he hadn't been joking when he had yelled about working with acid earlier. John looked at him with raised eyebrows, wondering what kind of flesh he was referring to, and it must have been written all over his face because Sherlock smirked.

"Unfortunately, all I could get my hands on was ground beef." John looked at him a moment before busting out laughing. Sherlock ended up chuckling along with him, and they heard the voices downstairs falter for a minute before starting back up.

"I swear, you are the most interesting person I have ever met." John said, still chuckling, and Sherlock looked slightly pleased. Sherlock continued showing John some of his equipment and past experiments before John's mother called up the stairs for him.

John trotted back to the first level with Sherlock on his heels to see Cooper and his mother standing by the doorway. He quickly joined them, and Sherlock took his place beside his own mother.

"We'll see you this evening at 6 then. My husband should be in from the fields by then." John's mother said cheerfully, and Mrs. Holmes nodded. As his mother turned to leave, John waved a little goodbye to Sherlock and said a quick 'see you later' before following his mother out.

JWXSH

Sherlock returned to his room as soon as John and his mother left, tinkering with his tools for a bit before losing interest and falling back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He was still slightly shocked that John had been so very kind. He seemed genuinely impressed and interested in his work, and even laughed with him. Sherlock had never had that happen before. He had never had someone to laugh with.

He went through about 55 scenarios of what could happen the upcoming evening, and realized that he actually didn't want to fuck this up for once. It was only noon and his mind was already torturing him with all the ways he could and likely would be a dick.

He spent about 30 minutes like that before finally dragging himself back off of his bed and grabbing his violin out of the corner. He began playing the most complicated songs he knew, and after 3 hours he finally put it down with a calm mind and returned to his experiments.

When it finally hit 5:45 Sherlock's mother called for Mycroft and himself down to go over to the Watson's and Sherlock trotted down the stairs as calmly as he could. He shrugged on his favorite coat as his mother told his father about how kind Mrs. Watson was for inviting them over.

They, like the Watsons, walked over to their neighbor's house and as they walked down the driveway Sherlock's nerves increased. He practically jumped out of his skin when he heard Cooper bark and come barreling down the path towards them, earning an odd look from Mycroft. Sherlock ignored his brother and proceeded to continue walking, Cooper now padding by his side. For some reason the coonhound seemed to like him.

John was standing on the front porch in the dying light and grinned and waved before calling Cooper back to him. The dog galloped back to his owner and John petted him before greeting them all, even going so far as to introduce himself and shake hands with Sherlock's father.

John quickly ushered them inside and led them into the dining room, where Mrs. Watson and a young woman who Sherlock assumed with John's sister were setting the table.

"Welcome to our home! And it's lovely to meet you, Mr. Holmes. My husband will be down in just a moment." Mrs. Watson greeted, placing a large bowl of chicken and dumplings on the table as John's sister put out silverware.

"This is my sister Harriet, by the way. Harry, this is Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, Mycroft and Sherlock." John introduced, and before Sherlock could help it his mouth was going.

"Now I see why John's phone is so banged up. Tomboy who loves to party, has a tendency of drinking too much on weekends when you know your parent's won't be awake to hear you stumbling upstairs. You don't want to work on the farm so you avoid it, probably plan on moving out of this town as soon as you get out of high school. And you are in love-" Sherlock cut himself off, knowing that his next sentence could be detrimental. Harry looked livid, and before he knew it she had crossed the room in long strides and a fist was heading for his face. Used to this, Sherlock merely braced for it, and was surprised when a hand stopped the incoming blow.

"That's not how we treat guests, Harry." John growled, his hand tightening on her fist. She snarled and he got farther in her face. "It's not his fault you're a drunk and no one's surprised. So fuck. Off." John said lowly.

"Language!" Yelled Mrs. Watson, but Sherlock had his eyes locked on John. The teen kept surprising him. After a very impressive stare down, Harry finally yanked her fist back and stormed upstairs, nearly knocking into Mr. Watson as he came down. He looked confused for a moment before shaking his head and joining them in the dining room, introducing himself as John continued what Harry had been doing previously. Soon they were all sitting at the table, spooning portions onto their plates with an air of ease.

Mycroft looked at John from his seat beside him while the adults talked about the town and their work, and Sherlock listened closely as his sibling started speaking to John. He had a habit of getting straight to the point, and this was no exception.

"You're surprisingly loyal for just meeting Sherlock today. I've never seen someone save him from a punch before." Mycroft stated, and Sherlock tensed. He didn't want to discuss his past with John.

"Then Sherlock hasn't had very good friends. And you shouldn't speak about your brother as if he's not there." John admonished, and Mycroft looked taken aback, not that your average person would be able to tell. He spoke again before Sherlock could cut him off.

"Sherlock's never had friends." He said simply, no pity, just fact. John nearly dropped his fork, and he looked at Sherlock quickly, as if looking at his face for confirmation. Sherlock shrugged, and John snorted before smiling.

"Then those people were idiots." He said simply, taking another bite of his dinner. Sherlock kept himself from grinning, but just barely. John turned away from Mycroft to speak to Sherlock again, telling him about his new school.

"I'll show you around, of course. Most of the people are kind, and I'll introduce you to the best ones. I get the feeling Greg will really take to you – he's a good friend of mine, a senior and the captain of the football team. Don't let that fool you, though, he's got brains. Not as smart as you, of course," John chuckled, "But then again I doubt there's many people who are." Sherlock smiled lightly and took another bite of his potatoes, continuing to listen to the other young man.

"You guys don't have a car, right? I can drive you tomorrow if you want, it's no trouble." John offered, and Sherlock wondered if he was always this kind. He found himself nodding along with Mycroft.

"Thank you, that would be…nice." Sherlock said uncertainly, but John just smiled again and nodded. The night went by quickly and before Sherlock knew it they were saying their goodbyes and heading for home, his parents talking about how nice the Watsons were. Sherlock couldn't help but silently agree.


	3. Chapter 3

After the Holmes left, John found himself corralled into the kitchen with his father to help clean up dinner. Harry still hadn't come down from her room, which was probably a good thing. Before he knew that Sherlock had never had friends he had been pissed, and if he saw her now he may have been the one throwing the punches. His mother hated when they fought, though, so he blocked out his flaring temper and continued drying the dishes that were passed to him.

When everything was clean and put in its place, John dragged himself up to his room, flopping onto the bed. Cooper joined him quickly, making the bed dip, and John found that he was more tired than he originally thought. He shucked his clothes and threw on some sleep pants before clicking off the light and climbing under the covers. He fell asleep almost instantly.

The next day and night passed in a blur of sunlight and sweat. As usual he spent Sunday at the church and then on the farm. Work took up all his attention, so he had no time to worry about what the upcoming day would bring. He fell back into bed at the end of the day and was out like a light.

His alarm was screaming at him. John groaned a bit as he reached over to turn off his clock, Cooper already jumping off of the bed. He grabbed his clothes before shuffling into the shower and going through the paces. He was in the middle of brushing his teeth when his brain fully clicked on and he realized he had to pick up the Holmes brothers.

John finished up and grabbed his bag quickly, jogging down the stairs to grab an apple and kiss his mother on the cheek before heading out the door. He scratched Cooper behind the ears as a goodbye before leaving the hound on the porch and swinging himself into the seat of an old but steady pick-up truck. He was at the Holmes' not a minute later, knocking at the door politely.

Mrs. Holmes answered the door and told him to wait in the parlor while she headed up to the boys' rooms. A moment later footsteps were thundering back down, and Mycroft and Sherlock came into view. Mycroft looked perfectly presentable – perhaps too presentable with his black slacks – and Sherlock didn't look half bad himself in those jeans. The bags under his eyes told John he hadn't gotten much sleep, though. Worried about his first day at school maybe? John stood from the chair and smiled at them, hoping to ease any nerves they had.

"Well c'mon then, let's get going." He said cheerfully, leading them out to the truck. They followed silently and John figured they weren't morning people as he jumped back up into the vehicle, Sherlock and then Mycroft sliding in from the other door.

The ride was quiet, only broken by the soft country music playing. John tried to keep his yawns at bay, and they soon pulled up to the small school. John parked beside the old muscle car that belonged to Greg, who was leaning against the hood waiting for him and smoking. Hopping out of his pick-up quickly, he grinned at the tired-looking senior.

"Hey Greg, want you to meet my new neighbors. This is Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes. Sherlock, Mycroft, meet Greg Lestrade." John introduced after the brothers had evacuated the truck. Sherlock nodded at him, apparently too tired to start telling Greg his own life story, and Mycroft shook his unoccupied hand with a polite 'nice to meet you'.

"Y'all from the city, then? What brings you to our neck of the woods?" Greg asked curiously, looking them both up and down and taking a drag from his cigarette. Sherlock didn't look like he was going to reply, so Mycroft spoke again instead.

"Our parents thought it would be a healthier environment." He said simply, and Greg nodded, leaving it at that.

"You're a senior, right?" Greg asked Mycroft, who replied with an affirmative. Greg grinned. "Well then I'll show you around. I'm sure John will have enough on his hands as it is." The older male chuckled and shrugged his bag over his shoulder, dropping his smoke and stomping it out before leading them through the streams of students heading for the building. John was glad that Greg would be taking Mycroft off of his hands – he wanted to be able to hang out with Sherlock without his meddling brother around.

As they entered the school, the students parted for Greg and John, and by association the Holmes'. John said good morning to several people who looked at Sherlock curiously, but the young man seemed very good at ignoring what was around him. Greg and Mycroft soon headed off in a different direction, the latter pulling a schedule out for Greg to go over.

"You've got your classes set up already, then?" John asked his new shadow, and Sherlock nodded, pulling his own schedule out of his bag and letting John take a look. "Ah, you have homeroom and biology with me, that's convenient. The rest of these I can show you to before my classes. " Sherlock, who still looked half asleep, followed him through the bustling halls to homeroom.

By the end of homeroom Sherlock seemed to come back to life and began inspecting the people around him. John chuckled at his analyzing gaze, which turned on him with a questioning look. He shook his head and led the other boy to his next class before heading off to his own.

JWXSH

Sherlock got through his incredibly dull classes with little fuss, hoping not to land in detention on his first day. If he did, how would he get to spend time with his first friend? The bell chimed and he lifted himself out of his seat, swinging his bag onto his back and moving to lean outside the door, waiting for John. He watched as the crowd boiled before him, taking in little bits of information that were completely useless. He did see, however, when a boy his age approached.

"Whatcha doing here, city slicker?" He asked snidely, and Sherlock disliked him immediately.

"I may be mistaken, but I don't think that's any of your business." Sherlock replied loftily, and turned his head back to watch the crowds pass by. He wondered how much longer it would be until John showed up. The other boy sputtered for a moment before finally articulating his aggravation.

"You little shit, who do ya think you are?" He snarled, and Sherlock shot him a lazy look, as if he had much better things to do. Which was true.

"I know exactly who I am, and I know who you are too. You're an only child of a poor family; your mother gave birth to you around 17, then left after you were born, leaving you with a drunk of a father who beats you. You take out your anger on other people smarter than you because you get shitty grades. And you've been in fights before, but you've never won one. Am I wrong?" Sherlock rattled off, leaving a shocked look on the other's face and gathering the attention of several students who looked at him with awe. The shock didn't last long though, and fury replaced it, but before he could say a word or even pull a fist back, a voice stopped him.

"Anderson. What do you think you're doing?" Greg asked, walking forward with John and Mycroft in tow. John was glaring daggers at Anderson but Greg seemed perfectly at ease. Sherlock thought he heard his aggressor squeak.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing!" He nearly whimpered, and vanished into the crowd before John could get ahold of him. Speaking of John, it looked like his fist had finally relaxed. Greg let out a low chuckle and patted Sherlock's shoulder before steering him away from the wall and down the hall towards the cafeteria.

"Good job tearing Anderson a new asshole, he's a rat if I've ever seen one. Need to set a barn cat on that boy." Greg congratulated as John led them to what Sherlock assumed was their usual table. There were several people there already: one boy and three girls. John sat down beside one of the females and gestured for Sherlock to sit beside him, which he did quickly. Sherlock found himself facing the two other girls and John grinned as he introduced them.

"Sherlock, this is Irene and Molly. Ladies, this is Sherlock and that," He pointed to his brother, "Is Mycroft. They moved in next door to me over the weekend." John said as he pulled out his lunch. Sherlock nodded politely to the girls, who were already picking at their own food. Irene grinned in an almost sinister way and leaned forward, while Molly squeaked out a 'hello' and kept her eyes on the table. Sherlock watched as Molly's gaze flicked over to Irene before settling once more on the table.

"So, you're from the city too, huh? How are you liking it so far?" Irene asked in a way that led Sherlock to believe she knew more than she was letting on. He watched as she subtly moved so that the inside of her elbow was showing, and therefore her scars. Why did she want him to know she was a recovering cocaine addict, unless…ah! She had figured out why himself and his brother had been moved here. That's why she hadn't asked. He laid his own hand on his elbow as he leaned forward on the table, arms crossed. If she didn't understand, he was giving her too much credit.

"It's better than I expected." Sherlock said simply, and could feel both John and Mycroft's eyes on him. Of course his brother wouldn't have missed any of their conversation – including that which was non-verbal. John went on to introduce Sherlock to the other girl, Sarah, and the boy, Mike. They all seemed like nice enough people, and Sherlock wondered how long that would last.

He listened to the conversations that sprung up around him, and found that Molly and Irene were into each other; Mike had a crush on Sarah, who was great friends with John but didn't like him that way; and what was this? Greg was interested in Mycroft.

Sherlock was suddenly struck with the realization that things were going to get much more complicated from here on out.


End file.
